It's gonna be okay (Promise?)
by IcyMoonOnStage
Summary: A new pack comes to Beacon Hills, Derek gets hurt, Stiles cares and a much-needed conversation is had ( STEREK )


Stiles hated politics.

Well, he didn't _hate_ politics, he just didn't care for it. It was boring and complicated, so Stiles would rather leave it to the experts.

All he knew was republicans and democrats do not like each other, and Donald Trump sucks. That, in his opinion, was enough.

Considering that, when another pack- the Hayes pack -came into their territory requesting to speak with the Alpha about a part of the Hale territory that they felt belonged to them, Stiles tuned them out. They looked peaceful enough that he didn't have to worry about possible conflicts, and his people instincts (his spider senses) never lied to him. Plus, he was really tired from the constant fights, so excuse him for having hope in humanity for once.

His plans were to avoid the Preserve and the loft until the matter is settled. Unfortunately, the pack wanted to do it diplomatically so a meeting was arranged which all members had to attend and no matter how hard Stiles tried, Derek would not budge.

So he went to the stupid meeting.

Most of it he spent scrolling through Tumblr and playing Clash of Clans on his phone, and the rest walking around in the loft, touching every book, ornament, picture, wall, _thing _he could. It drove everybody crazy. They threw him out.

Small victories.

Now, thinking back on it, he wishes he paid attention to it. He wishes that he stayed a bit longer. Maybe it would have turned out differently.

After he was politely asked to leave by the Hayes pack and not so politely by his, he got into the jeep, turned on the engine and stopped. He couldn't start it. Not because of the jeep itself, Derek fixed it after one too many times it decided to stop working in vital situations. No, this was… a feeling?

He turned off the engine and got this strong urge to go check on someone…

Derek?

Suddenly, there was a loud roar from the loft, and before he knew it Stiles was out and running.

The living room was a mess to put it lightly. The new sofa was on its side on a completely different side of the room, the curtains that Lydia bought were ripped to shreds and the table was somehow split into two perfectly even parts. Stiles looked to his left and saw a gaping hole where there once was a window.

Next to the split table Boyd, Erica and Isaac were subduing two girls from the other pack while Scott was fighting with what looked like The wolfed out Rock (Jesus Christ, his abs). It seemed like Scott had it in the bag so Stiles didn't bother approaching and trying to help.

Lydia was in the kitchen behind Allison who had her bow out and fired arrows left and right, never missing her targets.

In the middle of it all were Derek and the other alpha (Oscar, Oliver, O-something). Their fight looked the most intense. They moved so quickly, Stiles couldn't even see them moving, just blurry lines of what he supposes were punches, fists, claws, teeth, blood, so much blood.

Oh God.

"DEREK!"

Already, the fighting had ended with all of the Hayes betas either unconscious, surrounded by circles of mountain ash, or both. With his scream, everybody but the Alphas stopped and watched helplessly as the Alpha thrust a giant rod (Where did he-) through Derek's chest.

For a moment, time stopped. It just stopped.

Stiles' breath hitched, his heart almost flat lining as the deafening silence spread through the loft.

Time started again with Derek falling to his knees, and every single werewolf jumping on the Alpha who was definitely regretting doing that.

Stiles didn't pay attention to any of them as they struggled to contain him, as Lydia tried to pour mountain ash around him without trapping the rest of them.

He didn't pay attention to any of it, only Derek.

Derek, who was currently kneeling over a pool of his own blood.

The blood which was coming from the giant hole in his chest.

Because he has just been impaled. By a fucking rod.

His feet were moving and before he knew it, he was kneeling in front of Derek, his jeans now completely bloody.

Stiles' shaking hands cupped Derek's face as they held a gaze, eyes unwavering. Derek's glossed over, unfocused, and Stiles' desperate.

"You are not allowed to die on me, you got that?" He was going for a confident voice but failed spectacularly when it broke in the middle of the sentence, the last words nearly turning into a sob.

Derek shakily reached out and held onto the front of Stiles' shirt, not breaking eye contact.

" 't's gonna be okay" His voice was hushed, making Stiles come closer to hear it.

He snorted wetly. "I'm supposed to say that," Stiles glanced down on the spreading stain on the previously white shirt, "I'm the one who's supposed to be comforting you…" He whispered, letting his voice trail off as he sniffed, trying to remember what his dad taught him.

First, find something to stop the bleeding.

He carefully pressed onto the wound with his right hand, and positioned his left one on Derek's back to keep him upright.

"Stiles"

He looked around to find something that could help him, a piece of cloth, bandages…

"Stiles"

There must be bandages around here somewhere-

"Stiles!"

Derek's voice shook him out of his trans and Stiles was back to the seriousness of the situation. His hands trembled as he pointedly looked only at the wound, trying to distance himself, to look at this logically.

A hand lifted his chin up forcing him to look at Derek's pale, _pale_ face.

His eyes, once glossed over, were now focused only on him. With the intense stare his heart skipped a beat reminding him once again of the effect Derek had on him even while bleeding to death.

And he was. Bleeding to death. Derek was going to die in his arms and he can do absolutely nothing at all. Nothing.

"Stiles," Derek's thumb hesitantly touched Stiles' lower lip, "Do you trust me?"

With those words, Stiles tensed up. His mind going back to the pool that now seemed eons ago. He shook it off and focused on the thousands of other memories, each one convincing him more and more of his answer.

"Yes"

A small smile appeared on Derek's face, but it was soon replaced with a grimace of pain.

"Call Melissa!" Stiles turned towards the pack who were watching the scene unfold. All of their eyes were red and glossy. He realized his own cheeks were now wet, too.

Derek pulled him towards him as he felt consciousness gradually slipping away.

Stiles grabbed him before he fell and slowly lowered him to the ground.

"nonononono, don't you dare close your eyes, you hear me Derek? You have gone through far more worse, you can survive a fucking rod! Stay awake!" He started pressing on the wound again as Isaac approached them and started taking away Derek's pain

"Please Derek, you can't do this, I- I can't lose you, -I won't lose you, too." He was outright sobbing now, speaking through the tears, "I don't want you to die..."

Stiles cupped his face again trying to sober him up, when Derek gently grasped his wrist between both of his hands (his left elbow still being held by Isaac). He pulled him closer and put one hand on the back of his neck.

"Then trust me," His voice was weak and scratchy and as he talked a drip of blood appeared in the corner of his mouth, "It's gonna be okay."

Stiles had no time to think over the words as Derek's eyes slid shut, his hands falling to the floor and the only sound that could be heard was the distant siren of an ambulance.

Then Lydia screamed.


End file.
